


This Too Shall Pass

by WinterSky101



Category: The Turner Series - Cat Sebastian
Genre: Autism Spectrum, Autistic Lawrence Browne, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:22:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25315267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterSky101/pseuds/WinterSky101
Summary: Lawrence is sitting with Rivington in the parlor, waiting desperately for Jack and Georgie to return, when a sound like gunfire tears through the previously quiet night.
Relationships: Lawrence Browne & Oliver Rivington, Lawrence Browne/Georgie Turner, Oliver Rivington/Jack Turner
Comments: 12
Kudos: 15





	This Too Shall Pass

Lawrence didn't like London. He didn't think he ever would. There were far too many people, and an absurd amount of chaos. Honestly, he didn't know how anyone managed to live there. When he was forced to visit, however - which was a thankfully rare occurrence - he tended to go exclusively between two places: Lady Standish's house, and Jack Turner's.

Simon liked to explore, and Georgie would sometimes wander off towards old haunts, but Lawrence stayed put. He would either sit with Lady Standish and talk about the latest discoveries in science, or he would sit with Georgie's brother and his alleged business partner Rivington - although Lawrence had the suspicion the relationship between the elder Mr. Turner and Rivington was more similar to his relationship with Georgie than any business arrangement - and normally talk of nothing at all. Rivington, Jack, and Georgie would chat, and Lawrence would sit with Barnabus and slowly, slowly become acclimated to the room and the people within it. He'd nearly reached a point where he no longer felt that any unexpected movement would bring one of his attacks. Thankfully, while he almost always felt like one was right at the edge of his mind, he'd yet to have one in front of either Jack or Rivington.

When Georgie and Jack went out one night - _"Just a quick errand,"_ Jack promised, _"we'll be back in less than an hour"_ \- Lawrence thought that streak might end.

He snagged Georgie by the sleeve, and Georgie, seeing the look on his face, tugged him into the dining room to have a private word. "Are you alright?" he asked, concern on his face.

"Do you have to go?" Lawrence asked, aware that his voice sounded childishly pleading.

Georgie hesitated. "It's a two man job," he replied. "And not one Oliver can manage, not with his leg. I could ask Jack to hire someone else, I suppose."

But Georgie clearly wanted to spend this time with his brother, and Lawrence had the feeling that, whatever they'd be doing, Jack trusted his brother more than he'd trust any hired man.

"It'll be quick?" Lawrence asked.

"Less than an hour, like Jack said," Georgie promised. "And Oliver's a good man. I know you don't know him well, but I think you could come to like him. If it's what you'd prefer, he won't begrudge you two sitting in silence."

Doing anything but sitting in silence sounded practically impossible to Lawrence, so he hoped Georgie was telling the truth. "Hurry back," he entreated.

Georgie went up on tiptoe to kiss Lawrence on the cheek. "I will, I promise."

Lawrence waited for a minute in the dining room to compose himself before following Georgie back into the parlor. Georgie, he noticed, was bent over Rivington's chair, murmuring something to him; Rivington's brow creased slightly and he nodded in apparent agreement. Lawrence had the feeling they were discussing him. He didn't object at all. In fact, he hoped Georgie was telling Rivington to leave him to himself until the others got back. That seemed to Lawrence like the only way he'd get through this.

Perhaps Georgie did say something along those lines, because once he and Jack left, Rivington offered Lawrence a small, encouraging smile and asked, "Would you mind terribly if I went over some accounts? I'm afraid they rather need doing."

"Go ahead," Lawrence replied, hoping that was all he had to say that evening.

"Do tell me if you need anything," Rivington said, using his walking stick to lever himself to his feet and crossing to a desk in the corner of the room.

The room was mostly quiet for the next few minutes, save for the sounds of Rivington's pen and Barabus's panting. Lawrence tried to focus on his breathing. He'd found that deep, even breaths could help stave off a fit, and while he didn't feel particularly like one was oncoming, it didn't hurt to be prepared.

It was, he reflected later, only that control that kept him from immediately tipping into panic when a sound like gunfire rang through the air.

"What the devil was that?" Lawrence burst out, feeling his pulse skyrocket. He reached for Barnabus and tangled his fingers in his fur, gripping it tightly like it was his only tether to sanity. He no longer feared that one of this attacks might send him spiraling into irredeemable madness, not really, but there was still an underlying fear that perhaps he was wrong and they would. The longer he could put them off, the better.

And then he realized that, since the sound, Rivington hadn't said a word.

Lawrence turned towards the corner where Rivington sat. He'd never looked in a mirror during one of his attacks, but the look on Rivington's face was what he expected he would have seen if he had. His face had drained of all color, his lips were slightly parted, and his eyes were terrified. His breaths were raspy and quick, and he looked as if his mind had gone somewhere else entirely.

And, Lawrence realized with a pang, there was no one but him here to help.

"Rivington?" he asked tentatively. "Are you alright, man?"

It was obvious that Rivington was _not_ alright, made all the clearer when he didn't say a word in response. Lawrence racked his brains, trying to figure out what to do. He'd never been on this side of the scenario before, and somehow, all of the things Georgie normally did to make him feel better had fled his mind the instant he thought to use them.

"It's alright," Lawrence tried pathetically. He wondered if touch might help, then decided it was best not to; he'd grown to appreciate Georgie's touch in these moments, but the thought of a stranger touching him like this was awful. "You're safe," he added. "It was a devilish loud noise, but nothing more than that, I don't think."

Rivington still didn't respond. Tentatively, Lawrence stood and crossed to stand closer to him. He still didn't touch him, but maybe proximity would help. Rivington didn't seem to even know he was there, but Lawrence tried again nonetheless.

"You'll be alright," he told Rivington, trying to think of what he'd most like to hear in these sorts of situations. "This will pass. Things will go back to normal again afterwards. It'll all be alright in the end."

Rivington still showed no signs of response, still trembling and staring out into space and breathing in that awful, rough way, and Lawrence was beginning to despair of ever reaching the man when suddenly he heard the door burst open. A moment later, Jack raced into the parlor, Georgie at his heels. Georgie crossed straight to Lawrence, but Jack didn't even seem to notice him; he ran to Rivington and knelt in front of him, reaching for his hands.

"Oliver, _Oliver_ , it's alright, love, you're alright, it was just some fools setting off fireworks, it wasn't gunfire, you're not in France or Spain, you're in London, you're in our house, it's alright-"

Georgie took Lawrence's hand in his and pulled him into the dining room for the second time that night. "Are you alright?" he asked in a worried voice. "I thought the noise might… disturb you. Jack and I both ran all the way back after we heard it."

"The noise was… unpleasant," Lawrence admitted, although he'd nearly forgotten the way he almost panicked in the aftermath of the sound. "But Rivington…"

Georgie's mouth twisted slightly. "Oliver was in the army for ten years. He was at Waterloo, and Badajoz, and God knows where else. I think the sound of gunfire or things that sound like gunfire bring him back there."

Lawrence couldn't even imagine going through those horrors once, let alone being dragged back every time he heard a loud noise. "I tried to help him, but I wasn't sure what to do," he admitted. "I told him it was alright and it would pass, but it didn't seem to do much good."

"You did exactly right," Georgie assured him. "You did your best to keep him calm until Jack got here, and that's all you could have done. Jack will be able to bring him back. He's gotten rather good at it."

Lawrence nodded, suddenly feeling the weight of all his delayed panic. He was about to ask Georgie if they could go to bed despite the early hour when Jack ducked his head in the dining room quickly. "Oliver and I are off to bed," he told them. "Georgie, we'll do the job some other time. Radnor, thank you for helping Oliver."

Before Lawrence could protest that he hadn't really done anything, Jack returned to the parlor and to Oliver. Georgie looked over at Lawrence, apparently coming to some decision.

"You know, I wouldn't mind going to bed either," he admitted. "That run wasn't exactly short. What do you think?"

"I think that sounds perfect," Lawrence agreed.

Georgie fell asleep fairly quickly, but, to Lawrence's surprise, he took much longer himself. His body was thrumming with a strange mixture of exhaustion and nervous energy, and until the two finished battling it out, he didn't think he'd be able to sleep.

Accepting that he'd be awake a while longer, Lawrence wriggled out from under Georgie the best he could without waking him up and headed to the kitchen to get a glass of water. Apparently, he wasn't the only one who'd had that thought, because Rivington was in the kitchen too, sitting in a chair and slowly sipping from his own glass. He looked up at Lawrence as he walked in and smiled slightly, despite how absolutely exhausted he looked.

"I understand I owe you a thank you."

"You don't owe me anything," Lawrence grumbled.

"Regardless, you have my gratitude," Rivington replied. He looked down at his glass. "In those… situations, it helps to know that I'm not alone."

"Your Jack doesn't seem the type to leave you alone," Lawrence replied, getting his own glass of water.

Rivington's lips twitched into a smile. "Nor is your Georgie. We're both very lucky with our Turner brothers."

"We are indeed," Lawrence agreed. He lifted his glass. "I'll drink to that."

Rivington's smile widened, but he also lifted his glass. "To Jack and Georgie, then."

"And to our good luck," Lawrence agreed. Part of him wondered at his ability to make such easy conversation with Rivington, but the moment in the parlor seemed to have changed something between them. Rivington had always seemed so calm and well put-together, and catching a glimpse behind that mask made him appear much more human and much easier to talk to. As shocking as the idea seemed, Lawrence thought they might even become friends.

Rivington lifted his glass and drank, and Lawrence did the same. When his glass was empty, Rivington sighed and used his walking stick to push himself to his feet.

"I think I'll go back to bed, if you don't mind. Goodnight, Radnor."

"Goodnight, Rivington," Lawrence replied.

Rivington offered him one last tired smile, then he limped off to the bedroom he and Jack shared. Lawrence finished his own drink and headed up to his own bedroom, where he knew Georgie would be waiting.

And this time, he had no trouble falling asleep at all.

**Author's Note:**

> My writing tumblr is [here](http://winterskywrites.tumblr.com/), if you're interested.


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